


In the Alley It Ain't That Cheap

by mahoni



Category: Bandom, DCU, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Crack, Crossover/Fusion, M/M, Sex Pollen, Sexual Tension, Superpowers, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahoni/pseuds/mahoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon put the whammy on Batman's sidekick. ...look, it was an accident, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Alley It Ain't That Cheap

Brendon felt air break over his head, and he choked for it. Back in the logical part of his brain he knew the wiry arm wrapped around his chest was keeping him from drowning, but he couldn't help struggle against it. It tightened around him and didn't let go.

And then there was land, and he was dropping onto his side on the ground, and the water came up out of his stomach and lungs in burning spasms.

"-- there you go -- hear me -- come on, man, look at --"

The voice filtered through the terrified fog in Brendon's head at about the same rate as the oxygen started building back up in his bloodstream. Behind the voice, farther away, were sirens and shouting.

His stomach dropped as he remembered the bone-rattling shaking, the way the bridge seemed to just vanish in front of him, the feeling of his car plunging over the broken edge and flipping and falling. He couldn't remember hitting the water, thank god. Just the parts he did remember left him feeling weak and nauseous with terror --

_Terror_.

Not that he'd ever nearly died before, okay, but keeping a handle on fear was a knee-jerk habit by now. His eyes flew open and he gritted his teeth through all of the gasping and told himself _you are not scared, you are not scared, you are not about to pass out from fear, please God, stop being scared_ until he started to feel the adrenaline seeping away.

All through it, his rescuer kept talking to him, stroking a hand soothingly over his face and letting Brendon clutch his hand. It helped, until Brendon got his head together enough to look and see who it was.

He saw black hair dripping with river water over a narrow black mask, he saw the dark, shadowy shades of yellow and red beneath the black cape, and _holy shit_.

"Robin," Brendon wheezed. "You're. You're. Robin?"

He caught the flash of a crooked smile dimly lit by the last shreds of sunset. "If you say so, dude."

It was not the most comforting response Brendon could have gotten.

He struggled to sit up, keeping an eye on Robin's expression and body language as he did so. Robin's smile faded to concern, and he caught Brendon's elbow to help him up. Which was not bad in and of itself; the guy was a hero -- or, well, sidekick to a hero -- so being concerned and considerate was pretty much his job.

So maybe it would be okay. Maybe the guy would be immune to Brendon's condition.

"How you feeling?" Robin said. "You took a hell of a dive."

"Yeah," Brendon said. He pressed a hand to his eye. Sitting up had made his head start to throb. "Yeah, thanks for -- for saving me. Um. I think I'm okay."

"You sure?" Robin leaned in to peer at him in the dusky light, using a gloved hand to tilt Brendon's chin up.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just. You know." Brendon waved a hand, trying to imply something along the lines of 'drove off a bridge, nearly died, no problem' without thinking hard enough about it that he'd start freaking out again.

"Good," Robin said. "That's good."

Then he reached up and tugged off his mask. Both hands came up to cup Brendon's face as Robin -- oh God, not just Robin, Brendon recognized the guy now, _shit_ \-- gazed at him with huge, worried eyes.

"Because I don't know how I would have lived without you if you'd died."

Objectively, it wasn't a bad kiss. But Brendon probably would have enjoyed it more if he hadn't been flailing and struggling and thinking _oh shit, Batman is going to fucking kill me_.

*

"Dude," Jon said, wide-eyed. "Batman is going to fucking kill you."

Brendon sighed, and pushed at Gerard's hand as it tried to creep up over his chest again. "I know. I know. Don't you think I --" He broke off with a squeak as Gerard's _other_ hand started exploring the snug fit of Brendon's blue jeans.

He twisted away and lunged through the apartment door, knocking Jon out of the way. Gerard lurched awkwardly in after him, due to his hand being stuck in Brendon's back pocket.

Righting himself, Gerard finally noticed Jon. He smiled. "Hi! Who are you?"

Shooting Brendon an alarmed look, Jon said, "I. Um. His...boyfriend?"

Then he flinched. Brendon flinched too. Gerard Way was Robin after all; he knew, like, kung fu and other types of kicko-fighto. If he was the jealous type, Jon could be in deep shit.

But Gerard's eyes just got really big. "Oh," he breathed. "Then you totally know how _wonderful_ he is. He --"

Breaking off, he blinked at Brendon in momentary confusion. Then he shrugged and grinned dreamily.

"I don't know your name," he said wistfully. "And I don't even care."

Jon whistled under his breath. "Daaaaaaamn."

Brendon whimpered.

It wasn't usually this bad. Brendon had always had a kind of strange affect on people when he got worried or scared. He suspected it was, like, some sort of evolutionary defense mechanism, protection against harm. When he was afraid, he released -- well, something. He didn't know what; he'd never gotten himself tested, for obvious reasons. Jon thought it was pheromones. Whatever it was, it tended to make people feel _positive_ about Brendon.

Or, okay, kinda fall in love with him. Just a little.

He made that work for him in his job. Being a performer with tendencies to stage fright made him a really _popular_ performer. Of course, his music was probably kind of good; he wouldn't be making any money off his singing if his music totally sucked, because the pheromonal love crap did wear off. But still. He could not deny that he capitalized on his Powers of Cupidity (as Ryan called them) when he was on stage.

But a little bit of starry-eyed appreciation was one thing.

Robin -- Gerard -- Robin -- _whatever_. Could not remember his own name. Either of his names.

"All I know is that he's the most important person in the world to me," Gerard was telling Jon.

"He's being literal," Brendon said faintly. "When he says that's all he knows? Yeah."

Jon shot him a look.

"I drove off the bridge after it blew up," Brendon said. "I was really, really scared. Like. Terrified."

"Oh," Jon said. He stared wide-eyed at Gerard, who was gazing heart-eyed at Brendon. "Wow. You whammied the hell out of him, didn't you."

Brendon twisted his shirt distractedly in his hands, making river water squeeze out and splatter on the carpet. "Batman is going to fucking kill me."

*

Not everybody succumbed to Brendon's love whammy (as Spencer called it). Some people were immune.

Take Batman, for example. He had Brendon shoved up against the wall by his throat to where Brendon's feet weren't even touching the ground, and Brendon could hear himself making pathetic, terrified meeping noises. And yet, there was no softening of Batman's enraged glare, no surprised parting of his lips or declarations of rapture, etc. No, Batman just kept looking madder and madder, and squeezed Brendon's throat tighter and yelled louder. Therefore, clearly immune to Brendon's pheromones.

_Yay?_ Brendon thought dizzily.

"-- made him -- _made_ him -- fall in love with you? _Took away his memory_?" Batman shouted. Brendon saw his jaw clench and heard him grit his teeth. It was a very ominous sound. "I swear to God, you little punk, if you've so much as _touched_ him --"

"No," Brendon wheezed. "I swear -- I didn't -- he kissed _me_ \--"

\-- and that might have been the wrong thing to say.

Batman went abruptly still. His eyes, already icy-cold, narrowed, and a dangerous smile played around his mouth.

"Kissed you," Batman said. Calmly. _Terrifyingly_ calmly. "Is that right."

Brendon's life flashed before his eyes. It was way too short and involved a lot less cuddling and sex with Jon than Brendon had hoped it would involve.

He wasn't proud of what happened next. As last words, they would not have been ideal.

"I'm sorry," he said. Okay, blubbered. "I didn't mean to."

*

"You looked pretty fucking scared to me," Batman said.

With the dimmed Bat-signal behind him, he was a dark, intimidating outline, standing with his arms crossed and his cape fluttering in the roof-top breeze.

"And yet I'm not suddenly in love with you," Batman continued. "Also, still know my own fucking name."

"I know," Brendon said.

It came out a bit of a croak. He winced and rubbed his abused throat. It might have been his imagination, but it almost looked like Batman shifted uncomfortably. Possibly regretfully? Brendon couldn't be sure, but he didn't try at all to keep the painful rasp out of his voice just in case.

"It doesn't affect everyone," Brendon said. "Like, the first time I asked my boyfriend Jon out? I was nervous as hell, and he still shot me down. It turned out he was already seeing someone at the time. If he hadn't been immune he would have called up his girlfriend and dumped her on the spot."

"But now he's your boyfriend," Batman said darkly.

Brendon felt himself blush. "Well. As hard as it might be to believe, I can actually make somebody fall for me without putting the whammy on them. Er. Apparently." He sighed. "Yeah, I can't explain it either. Jon keeps telling me I'm cute and sweet and talented and funny and great in bed, and I keep looking for the signs, you know, the dilated pupils, the dopey, drugged expression, the spacey googly-eyes..." He shook his head. "I mean, so far I haven't seen any of that. But. Yeah. It is pretty hard to believe, isn't it."

For a moment Batman was silent. Then he blew out a weary breath and scrubbed a hand over his cowled face, muttering under his breath.

"Okay, look," he said finally. "Let's say, just for the moment, that I believe you."

Brendon held his breath and tried not to get his hopes up.

"What are we going to do about it?" Batman said. "Can you, I don't know, _un_-whammy him?"

"Oh," Brendon said. "Yes, absolutely. It will just wear off, actually. It might take a little while, since this is a..." He hesitated, cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well. A slightly more severe case than usual."

He felt Batman's glare sharpen.

"But no, yes, I mean --" Brendon flapped his hands. "That's why I did the Bat signal thing. He needs to get away from me for it to wear off. I didn't want to just, like, dump him all alone in the middle of nowhere, so I thought if you could come and get him..."

Batman hmphed grudgingly. "Well. I appreciate that. The not dumping him thing."

"Of course! I wouldn't do that! Seeing how I'm not evil and this is all just a _huge mistake_," Brendon said. And then Batman glared at him again, so he shut up.

"How long will it take to wear off?" Batman said.

Brendon scrunched up his face, trying to guesstimate. "Um. A couple of days?"

"I'm going to have to listen to him moon around the house about you for a couple of _days_?"

"Unless he's in love with somebody?" Brendon said. "If there's someone he's in love with, get them together and he'll snap right out of it."

But Batman shook his head. "Not that I know of. There's this one friend of ours...but Ger- I mean, Robin, Robin says they're just friends."

"Well, then, yeah, couple of days." Brendon grimaced apologetically. "Sorry."

"I'll deal," Batman said. The heavy, long-suffering tone of voice implied that he'd had to deal with all kinds of similarly unpleasant things. Given that they were Batman and Robin, Brendon wasn't entirely surprised.

Batman started striding toward the edge of the roof, where his Batplane hovered silently. They were going to use it to go to Brendon's place to pick up Gerard.

Which was a point Brendon had forgotten to mention, actually.

"Um," he said. "Excuse me. Batman. Sir?"

"What," Batman snapped. He touched something on his wrist and the cockpit cover on the plane lifted.

"Er. There's one more thing," Brendon said. He couldn't stifle a nervous laugh when Batman paused and, very deliberately, turned.

"Is there," Batman said. His tone of voice said 'tell me you're kidding or I will throw you off this goddamn roof.'

Brendon was tempted to take it back. But Batman would find out eventually.

"So, I don't know if you're aware of this," Brendon said. "But there's a rumor going around that Batman is secretly the wealthy, eccentric billionaire Gerard Way."

"Yes," Batman said slowly. "I've heard that rumor."

"Yeah, it's funny," Brendon said. He tried to laugh again, but it came out strangled. "Because I don't think anybody would have pegged him for the _sidekick_..."

There was a long, fraught (for Brendon, anyway) moment of silence. Then Batman reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose through his cowl.

"Great," he muttered. "That's just _great_."

*

Brendon dropped the key twice at the security door and caught himself jingling the keys against his leg three times on the stairs up to his and Jon's floor. It wasn't so much that he was nervous at that point. Mostly he was nearly coming out of his skin keeping from asking too many questions or, like, giggling or something.

Because Batman was really not what he was expecting at _all_.

The rumors about Way being Batman had sprung up at least partly because no one ever saw the guy. There were pictures of him from when he was younger, and those pictures had been circulated plenty among tabloids and secret groups of Bat-fans. That's why Brendon had recognized him unmasked.

But the pictures were just awkward paparazzi shots, of a teenager with haunted eyes, taken not long after his family were lost in a plane crash almost ten years ago. After that, Way had just vanished, turned into a complete recluse. Without evidence to the contrary, rumor had built him up to be some kind of Count of Monte Cristo-type of guy, tall and imposing, hiding away in the huge, creepy Way Manor working out in his million-dollar personal gym and running around kicking bad guy ass at night.

Way in reality was just a normal dude, barely taller than Brendon himself, and not buff in the least. He seemed to have a wiry strength, like a gymnast maybe. But 'imposing' was not the word Brendon would have used to describe him. 'Geeky,' maybe; or 'squirrelly;' but not 'imposing.'

On the other hand, the guy who actually was Batman wasn't as imposing as Brendon would have expected, either.

"What," Batman said.

Brendon had tripped over the last step at the landing because he was staring again.

"Nothing," Brendon said. "Nothing, just. Clumsy."

He shrugged and smiled as brightly as he could. Batman rolled his eyes, propped his hands on his hips and looked down the hall.

"This your floor?" he said.

"Yes," Brendon said. "Yes it is. Bob."

Batman -- Bob, _Bob_ for God's sake -- shot him a look. It was the "I can kill you with my pinkie" look. Brendon was very familiar with that one. He'd been getting it pretty regularly since Batman had appeared out of nowhere behind him back on the roof of the Gotham Globe.

And it was effective. It really was. Bob had changed out of the Batman suit partly because he could walk into Brendon's building a lot more discreetly looking like a normal guy. But also partly, as he told Brendon, because "I want to make sure you know exactly who is going to _kill the fuck out of you_ if you spill Gerard's secret," and Brendon absolutely believed him. Bob may not be imposing, exactly -- average height, average build (apparently the bulk and muscle came from the Batsuit; who knew?) -- but he was definitely intimidating.

Also extremely _cute_. Baby blue eyes, floppy blond hair, freckles on his nose and cheeks.

_Freckles_. Brendon had to bite his lip to not coo. Even Bob's scowl-o'-death was adorable what with the way his face turned a little red (albeit with fury) and made his freckles stand out.

Brendon tore his unsubtle stare from Bob (and who the hell would have thought Batman's real name would be 'Bob'?) and checked the number on the door they were passing.

"Woops," Brendon said, stopping and backing up a couple of doors. "Sorry. Walked right past it."

Bob raised his gaze to the ceiling, muttering to himself.

Brendon was familiar with the ceiling-stare-and-mutter also. It was something else Batman-Bob seemed to do a lot.

Unlocking the door, Brendon pushed it open just enough to peek in. No one was in the living room. He'd called ahead to ask Jon to get Gerard to hang out in the kitchen so that Brendon and Bob could at least make it through the door unaccosted. Bob had suggested Jon make Gerard coffee; it appeared to have worked.

"Okay," he said. "Coast is clear."

But as soon as they stepped in and Brendon shut the door behind him, he heard a squawk from the kitchen.

"Is that Brendon?" and then louder, "Brendon? Is that you? Are you back? Oh my god I missed you _so much_ \--"

Brendon smiled weakly at Bob as Bob skewered him with a glare.

The door to the kitchen burst open and Gerard bounded into the living room. He got almost to them before he saw Bob and skidded to a stop, staring blankly.

Brendon half expected Gerard to ask Bob if Bob loved Brendon too. Gerard had done that earlier when Brendon had been on the phone with Ryan and Spencer. He'd wrestled the phone away from Brendon to find out if the people on the other end of the line adored Brendon to an appropriate extent, and to gush about all of the things he hadn't actually seen Brendon do -- because he didn't actually _know_ Brendon -- but was absolutely certain were awesome about Brendon.

But all Gerard did was blink. In that frozen moment, Brendon abruptly got why Bob had been so pissed about what Brendon could have been doing to his friend. Dressed in a pair of Brendon's sweats and Jon's Abbey Road t-shirt, barefoot and with his hair in a messy black tangle, stiff and sticking out here and there from the dirty river water dried on it, he looked small and gangly and like a kid barely out of college. Which was what he would be, if he'd gone to college; he was that age.

And on top of that, Gerard wore all of his emotion in his eyes. There was a lot of emotion there, too, now that the fog of fake bliss was fading.

Just the thought that Brendon could have possibly hurt this guy, even accidentally, made him feel like the world's biggest heel.

"Bob?" Gerard said quietly.

"Uh." Bob's brow wrinkled in confusion, and he glanced at Brendon and said, "I thought you said he couldn't remember any--"

He didn't get a chance to finish his question. Gerard crossed the remaining few steps between them, fisted his hand in the front of Bob's shirt and pulled him down into a kiss.

It went on long enough for Jon to snap out of his surprise and sneak to Brendon's side.

"Was that supposed to happen?" he whispered.

Brendon made fish faces and fluttered a hand helplessly.

Finally Gerard broke the kiss and pulled back. He and Bob stared at each other, stunned.

Then Gerard reeled back, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping a hand to his forehead.

"Owwwwww," he moaned. "My _head_. Fucking _ow_."

His face faintly pink -- not, Brendon was willing to bet, with rage this time -- Bob pointed at Brendon. And then Gerard. And then Brendon again.

"What," Bob said breathlessly. "The hell was that?"

Brendon had to bite his lip again to fight down a grin. The odds of Bob punching him in the face for grinning like a sap were high, based on what Brendon had learned about him in the last hour.

"Um, so," Brendon said. "You were apparently wrong about him not being in love with anybody."

He could tell when that sunk in, because Bob's eyes got very wide and the pink in his cheeks turned to a flood of red all across his face and down his neck. Shuffling, ducking his head and trying unsuccessfully to hide an un-Batman-like smile, Bob said, "Oh."

*

Later, once they were alone, Brendon and Jon celebrated Brendon not being murdered by Batman and Robin.

"Wait," Brendon gasped, twisting a little to get his mouth free. "Hey, I was thinking --"

He broke off with a shiver; Jon had dealt with the loss of Brendon's lips by moving his own in a delicate trail down Brendon's neck.

"Thinking what?" Jon said, warm breath against Brendon's throat.

For a moment Brendon didn't think anything at all beyond _oh yeah, that_ and _gah_ and various other incoherent syllables.

"Nonononono, wait." He flailed weakly at Jon's head and shoulders. "I have to tell you something."

Jon stopped what he'd started and laughed, short and breathless. Resting his cheek against Brendon's thigh, he looked up the length of Brendon's torso from beneath his eyelashes. His eyes were huge and brown; Brendon caught his breath, like he always did when Jon looked at him like that.

Huge and brown and clear and full of the kind of love Brendon had never seen from anyone he'd accidentally put the love whammy on.

"I am so lucky," he said suddenly. It wasn't what he'd meant to say, but it had just come out. Like the dopey smile he could feel pulling at his mouth.

Jon's forehead creased and he smiled uncertainly. "O...kay? You mean because you didn't get Bat-squashed?"

"Yeah," Brendon said softly. "Among other things. But wait --" He thwapped Jon regretfully but firmly on the head."That wasn't what I was going to say."

Thumping his head back onto Brendon's leg again, Jon sighed, long-suffering. "You know, there are really important things going on here. _Sexy_ things. Or at least they're supposed to be sexy things. I'm starting to think I'm doing something wrong."

Brendon laughed and pulled Jon up so he could kiss him. "So not doing it wrong. But I wanted to tell you before you make me forget." He waited until he had Jon's full attention. "Purple cape."

After a moment, Jon said, "Does this have anything to do with Gerard telling you he'd forgive you so long as you promised never to use your powers for evil?"

"Yes! Exactly!" Brendon beamed. He really was lucky. Jon just _got_ him, seriously.

"But you're not using your powers for evil, Bren," Jon said. "The performing thing -- people love your music. They talk about it later, like people I work with that go to your shows, I hear about it days later, way after any whammy has worn off, and they still love it. Because you're just -- Brendon, you're so talented."

"That -- isn't -- I mean." Brendon had to stop for a second and clear his throat a few times. "_Dude_. You totally derailed my whole spiel. I was going to tell you all about the costume I was going to have and what my superhero name would be and everything. And now I'm all." He waved a hand, meaning 'sniffly' and 'distracted' and 'so fucking in love with you it's not even funny.'

Jon just smiled. "I've got more where that came from. For example --" He gazed at Brendon with wide, innocent eyes, and said breathily, "Brendon, you don't need a costume to be _my_ hero."

Brendon snorted. "Oh please."

"No, wait, actually I kind of like the whole idea. 'Cupid' is already taken, but maybe you could call yourself, like, 'The Love Monkey.' Since Gotham already has a theme of heroes named after animals and stuff."

"_Hate_ you," Brendon muttered, and shut Jon up with some truly heroic kissing.

*

Epilogue

The distant city lights were fuzzy beneath the pre-storm haze. Most of the view through the high, arched window was of black sky. Lightning fractured the starless landscape now and then, offering snapshot glimpses of the swollen, lowering clouds before vanishing into darkness again.

Bob wondered, not for the first time, how the hell he'd ended up there. In that huge, empty house, with his strange, scary, but amazing life.

With Gerard.

When Brian had hired him to work the grounds at Way Manor, Bob had been fresh out of juvie, a high school drop-out with absolutely nothing going for him. All he'd known was that he'd do any goddamn thing not to trip his P.O.'s radar; he was just shy of 18 at that point, which meant that one step in the wrong direction and he'd go to real jail. Juvie had been bad enough. The thought of prison scared the shit out of him.

So he'd ended up there, in that fucking weird, spooky house with a creepy recluse for a boss, and told himself to suck it up and make the best of it.

He hadn't expected his freaky boss to be a sweet, kind of sad, geeky guy who just needed a little kindness to open up. He hadn't expected to find himself spending hours and hours listening to Gerard talk about comics and technology and monster movies and gender stereotypes in sci-fi and fantasy novels.

Gerard's obsession with heroes was less of a surprise. Ditto his obsession with every news story that crossed the internet about people in Gotham City losing loved ones to senseless crime.

"That kind of shit isn't random. It's not a -- a fucking act of God or any bullshit like that. People could actually do something about it, stop it and fucking _save_ people, if they just fucking gave a damn," Gerard had said, something like a hundred times. And then he'd had Brian track down a guy, some crazy inventor he knew -- a 'virtuoso gadget-man' was what Brian called Ray -- who could help Gerard do something, because he _did_ give a damn.

When Bob had first arrived at Way Manor, he hadn't expected to be wearing a cape and a cowl and kicking the shit out of bad guys in alleys, but by the time it happened, he just. He couldn't not do it. By then, he couldn't say no.

"Hey," Gerard said. His soft voice echoed in the long hallway. "Is it raining yet?"

Bob felt Gerard step up beside him. "Not yet."

They watched the storm roll in, quiet for a few moments. Then Gerard sighed, and ran his hand self-consciously through his hair.

"Well, tonight was one of the more embarrassing nights of my entire life," he said.

"Oh, I don't know," Bob said. "I can think of way more embarrassing things than spending hours and hours fawning all over some scrawny geek in weird glasses because he put a love whammy on you...oh wait, no I can't."

He hunched his shoulders in self-defense as Gerard socked him in the arm.

"Yeah, thanks, way to make me feel better, dickhead," Gerard grumped.

"Hey, I'm just agreeing with you," Bob said.

Gerard shook his head, but didn't shoot back with anything. Instead he wrapped his arms around himself in something like a hug and chewed his lip while he stared out the window some more.

Finally Bob took a deep breath, told himself to stop being a fucking pussy, and turned his back on the window to face Gerard.

"So," he said. "There was a moment, back there, where. I think something might have happened." _Way to not be a pussy, Jesus._ He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet. "Where you might have...kissed me?"

When he glanced up a flash of lightning lit up Gerard's face. He looked worried.

"Um, yeah, that's...actually the embarrassing thing I was talking about." Gerard hugged himself tighter. "Sorry about that. I don't know... I mean. Love whammy. Or whatever. Sorry."

"It's okay," Bob said. He could feel a flush rising in his cheeks, and was really glad neither of them had turned on all of the lights in the hallway. "You don't have to apologize."

"I'm pretty sure I do," Gerard said. "I sort of ambushed you."

Bob shook his head. "No. I mean, yes, you did. But. You don't have to apologize."

He was looking at his feet again, but he could feel Gerard's eyes on him.

"You sure?" Gerard said quietly.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Bob risked a glance up, not sure what he'd see. The Urie kid had said Gerard had reacted like that because of love. Love for him, for Bob. But the Urie kid was a few Fruit Loops shy of a full bowl, as far as Bob was concerned. No way in hell he was going to take Urie's word for it.

But as soon as he met Gerard's eyes, he was caught. He felt pinned down, the same way he had the first time Gerard had looked at him, _really_ looked at him instead of past him or through him. The intensity made him feel pulled apart, laid open.

And then Gerard's gaze softened, and he said, surprised, "Oh."

And then there. That, right there: the slow, startled smile that went from uncertain, to crooked, to blinding -- for a second Bob couldn't breathe. That, right there, was why Bob couldn't say no to pretty much anything Gerard ever asked of him. Zombie movie marathon, run out to get Chinese food at three a.m., learn obscure martial arts from a tiny tattooed psychopath and become a masked vigilante -- sure, why not, anything so long as Gerard would at least sometimes look at him like that.

"I have no idea what I'm doing here," Bob said. It came out involuntarily, and he felt stupid for how scared he sounded.

But Gerard just laughed, that ridiculous squeaky laugh of his, and pressed a palm against Bob's chest.

"I don't really know either," Gerard said.

Bob felt the cold window glass against his back. The contrast between that and how warm Gerard felt when Bob pulled him into his arms made him shiver.

Bob managed an almost-cool shrug. "Maybe we both got lucky for once."

"Maybe," Gerard said, lips moving against the corner of Bob's mouth.

The storm broke, rain and wind rattling the windows. Neither of them noticed.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Addendum on a theme of amnesia: Mikeyway is not dead. He's living as an amnesiac in a coastal village somewhere around where his plane went down. Eventually his memory will come back and he'll return home. And probably be Batgirl.
> 
> Title from "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy.


End file.
